


I'll Take a Shirt, a Skirt, and Your Heart

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:47:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: Shoot Prompt- Root is a rich girl and Shaw works in retail or something. Root has a huge crush on her so she keeps going back to the store and buys a bunch of unnecessary stuff just so she can talk to Shaw and flirt with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Take a Shirt, a Skirt, and Your Heart

The ding of the store bell chimes, echoing throughout the entire store as the door slides open. It sends a burst of icy air into the room, and Sameen Shaw brings her hands to her bare arms. Rubbing them slightly, she slinks back, finding it warmer behind the winter coats. She hears the clicking off heels as a woman she can’t see meanders down the aisle. Feeling the vibrations grow on the floor, she slips past in a different direction, heading toward the store’s small shoe department, not wanting to wait on another customer.

 _Can this be over soon?_ She thinks to herself, feeling the bottom of her feet starting to blister from the store-attire shoes she is forced to wear. _I can’t stand it here, in this dump, where the highest form of action comes from two old women bickering over who gets the last can of-_

"Hi, could you help me find a nice pair of boots? I have an interview today, and I need to look presentable."

 _Something in that voice_ , Shaw thinks, pausing her previous thought.  _It sounds a lot like…_  Whipping around, she is taken aback to find her suspicions correct. The woman looks equally startled to see her.

* * *

 

” _Root?_ " Shaw asks, eyes enlarging. Root’s mouth is left slightly agape, and her eyes are glistening with excitement.

"Sameen!" Root comes forward, emotions getting the better of her, and tries to bring Shaw into a hug. Sameen jumps back quickly, eyes narrowing angrily.

"I have an identity to maintain," she hisses to Root, who instantly backs up. Shaw’s eyes soften, too overwhelmed by seeing her again to be taken by anger. "What are you doing here?"

"She told me to come to this part of town- new identity and all- and I thought I’d grab some clothes for the personality. I didn’t expect to see…" her voice trails off as she looks Shaw up and down with glittering eyes. "It’s been weeks."

"Six weeks, four days," Shaw corrects with a small smirk. "Nothing better to do but count when you’re bored _out of your mind_. I haven’t been able to shoot anyone in  _ages._ " Root sends a sympathetic yet endearing look her way.

"Bright side is, you’re safe."

"But at the price of my  _sanity_.” Shaw retorts with a huff. Root smiles, eyes flickering with the pages of a story Shaw can’t quite read.

"Don’t worry, Sweetie." She coos. Shaw keeps her face annoyed, but feels some of the weight lift from her shoulders at the name. "I can handle you crazy." She gives Shaw a provocative look; Shaw rolls her eyes in response.

"Well, shoes are this way, Miss..?"

"Miss. Mayela Granger. Apparently, I’m rich," she remarks with a pleasant smile, Sameen seeing the gears turning behind those stunning eyes.

"Please do not buy a jet or a boat or a  _freeze_  ray,” Shaw says with slight sarcasm as she walks towards the shoe racks. “You’re scary enough as it is  _without_  the added toys.” Root places a hand on Shaw’s shoulder, then proceeds to unzip the back of her high heel.

With affection dripping from her voice, Root replies, “That’s such a sweet thing for you to say.”

________\ If Your Number’s Up /________

The days were getting better, and Shaw didn’t want to admit it, but it was all because of Root. What started as weekly visits became bi-weekly, became every day. And each time she came, she inched her way a little closer into Shaw’s heart. Shaw watches the clock on her wrist tick by, rocking back and forth on impatient feet.  _Come on, come on.._. She looks around briefly, then back down. She watches, transfixed, like an addict gauging the exact time for his next fix- not wanting to go a moment longer than he has to without it. And just like clockwork, at exactly 6:01 p.m. the entrance door rings throughout the store. Quickly, she stalks to one of the back dressing room desks and begins to rehang clothes.  _No need for her to know I was waiting_ , she thinks secretively, glancing up in quick bursts towards the entrance. Another minute passes by, then two. She taps at her watch angrily, wondering if it’s broken.

"Need new batteries?" Root says, and Shaw’s head immediately darts up, but her face stays easily cool.

"No, I just- what are you  _holding?_ " Shaw asks with a chuckle, trying to cover her mouth to muffle the laugh. Root looks down at the hideous clash of yellows, greens, and reds on a sheet-like dress.

"It just came into your store."

"Wow, we  _must_  be desperate.” Shaw retorts with a new rumble of laughter in her voice. To her left, a co-worker shoots her a nasty glare. Shaw bites the side of her cheek, looking Root up and down. “Why do you come here everyday? I mean, you must have at  _least_ half the store by now.” Root looks around, trying to suppress the emotions coming to the surface of her face.

"Well, Sameen,  _Mayela_  has a lot of money, and _I_ have a lot of time. Besides,” she says with a wink, passing by Shaw to go into the women’s dressing room, “Why would I spend my time anywhere else when I could be here with you?” Shaw rolls her eyes, then follows Root to the back room.

"Maybe because this place smells like  _moth balls_  and cat  _urine?_ " She retorts, yet there is a pleased smile on her face.

Root pushes into the nearest stall, and Shaw hears the latch slide into place. Looking around, she makes sure no one is near to listen.

"How is everyone?" She asks, leaning against the dressing room’s door.

"Busy," she replies, voice muffled by a shirt being pulled over her head. "Harold is trying to find a way to bring you back.." There is a sound of clothes hitting the floor, and Shaw peers down, seeing Root’s jeans in a heap. "..John is out with the numbers, and  _I_ ,” she adds with a smirk Shaw can hear, “am winning over the hearts of business associates in order to get closer to Samaritan.”

"Winning them over _how_?” Shaw asks, trying to keep the edge out of her voice.

"With html codes and some of the most complex algorithms to date," she replies as the door unlocks. Shaw steps away and turns to look at Root; she finds herself visibly stunned. Her feet are bare, legs leading up to a dress that starts just about the knee. Where the reds clashed with the yellows, and the yellows with the greens, now gives way to a flow of polygons. Root strapped a black belt with a silver buckle around her midsection, giving it shape, and the baggy, short sleeves rest off of her shoulders easily, revealing the smooth pale skin of her shoulders, and the faint line of her collarbone as it recedes into the lining of the dress. On top of it all, Root wears a satisfied smirk, seeing Shaw’s awed gaze. "Plus," she adds to her previous statement, stepping forward across the gray-blue carpet. "They say I have a smile to  _die_  for.” With that, she turns, revealing her back- utterly exposed. “Be a dear and lace that for me?” She asks, trying to conceal the smile in her words.

Shaw looks a moment, then tightens her stomach and clenches her teeth. Taking Root’s hair, she brushes it lightly over her shoulder, then begins. She scolds herself for the microscopic tremor in her fingers as she slowly zig zags a black ribbon along the back of the dress.

"So, uh," Shaw says, trying to think of something else. "Know when I’ll be back?"

"When it’s  _safe_  for you to be back,” Root replies seriously. Then, her tone becomes more doting. “I’m surprised you didn’t show up already.”

Shaw loops the ribbon through the last two holes, then ties a tidy bow at the nape of Root’s neck. She stays there, close, hands on the ends of the bow. When she speaks again, it’s more quiet, and Root feels a rush as Shaw’s words hit the back of her neck. “I may miss you guys, but not enough to get you killed.” Root turns in place, keeping the short distance between herself and Shaw, as the ribbon slips between Shaw’s fingers. The two look at each other, eyes locked- Root with a smile and Shaw with a frown.

"How do I look?" Root asks, not taking her eyes from Shaw. Shaw smirks.

"You look good- for a traffic light."

Root’s face turns up in an amused half-smile. “I think I’m going to get it.” She replies, stepping away from Shaw and back into the dressing room. Shaw watches her go, and once the door re-latches, sighs with disbelieving eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t notice,” Root adds with the clinking of a belt.

"Notice  _what?_ " Shaw retorts defensively. There is shuffling, then Root sticks her head out of the slightly cracked door, fingertips curling around it’s red-painted edge.

"Notice how you gawked when you saw me in  _this_.” Instantly, Shaw clenches her teeth, eyes narrowed, her ears trimming with pink. Root laughs, then recedes back into the stall.

Shaw taps her foot, verging impatience, and notices Root’s pants are still on the ground.  _What is she doing in there?_  she wonders with agitation.

"Can you do me a favor, Sweetie?" Root’s voice carries kindly from the stall.

"No," Shaw deadpans. There is silence. "Okay,  _fine_. What.”  _And wipe that smug little smile from your face,_  she adds in her mind, knowing without a doubt that Root is sporting one.

"I think I need some new…  _lingerie_.” Shaw’s face drops. “But,” Root sighs in a woe-is-me way, “I’m too shy to get it myself, s-“

"Too _shy?_ " Shaw remarks, voice slightly hysterical with flustering thoughts. "Says the woman who can _strip_  in a subway car with  _anyone_  aroun-“

"Shy.  _Yes,_ I’m  _shy_.” Shaw’s lips purse, hearing the self-satisfied lie in Root’s voice. “So, considering the only customer you seem to attend to is  _me_ , could you help  _me_  out?”

Shaw can feel the smoke billowing from her ears, muscles taut, and hands clenched in tight fists. In choppy, enraged chunks, she replies, “What. Would you. Like. Mrs. Granger.”

"It’s  _Miss_. Granger,” Root corrects. “I’m not married… yet.”

” _Root!_ " Shaw fumes. "Don’t make me  _hit_  you. What the  _hell_ do you want.”

"Anything you’d like to see me in."

"Ooh, sorry," Shaw sneers. "We don’t  _sell_  straight jackets here.” From behind the closed door, Root lets out a mellifluous laugh.

"You know what I meant, Sam. Now hurry, I have a meeting in twenty minutes and I would  _not_  look good late.” Bristling, Shaw walks out from the dressing room, eyes burning with frustration. The same co-worker from before gives her a questioning look, and Shaw bears her teeth savagely in return. The woman instantly casts her head down, while Sameen grudgingly walks to the store’s undergarment section.

__________\ We’ll Find You /__________

"So, you wanna go out some time?"

"No."

"Oh come on, Sam, please?"

” _Don’t_ call me Sam, Richard.” Shaw walks away from the pudgy manager yet another time, fists clenched.  _How bad I want to crack his bald head in two_ , she thinks angrily.

"You can’t turn me down forever," he replies, falling in step just behind Shaw. She grits her teeth, using all her self restraint.

"I beg to differ." She retorts, turning down the aisle of assorted graphic tees. Still, he follows.

"I give you  _all_  the hours you want, I let you work here despite complaints from other employees about your attitude- the  _least_  you can do is give me _one_ night.” He argues. Shaw walks faster. Down to the end of the wall, and turning into the women’s bathroom.

"Excuse me," she says nastily, "but I have to pee." She slams the door in his pug-nosed face, then paces up and down along the stalls. She walks back to the door, listens, someone is still outside. She goes back and paces some more, checks, and repeats. Ten, fifteen minutes go by, and Shaw can take it no longer. She punches a wall, feeling her knuckle split as the plaster wall cracks slightly. She shakes her hand out, and sees a small splatter of blood hit the floor. Looking down, she sees a couple drips on the side of her white work shirt. Swearing under her breath, she grabs some toilet paper from a stall and runs the water. Slowly, the blood comes out, and her hand starts to scab. She walks to the door- still there is breathing just outside. Blood boiling now, Shaw kicks open the door angrily.

"Leave me the  _h_ -” she stops.

Root smiles at her, cocking her head sideways in slight confusion. “I was wondering how long you were going to take,” she says sweetly. “What’d you do, get into a fight?” She asks with a serious expression, taking Shaw’s hand from her side and examining it. She holds it in both her hands, turning it from side to side, brows furrowing at the bloody smears on her knuckle. Shaw tries to pull her hand back, but Root holds firm.

"A fight with a wall." She replies with a small smirk, trying to get Root to smile. She doesn’t. "I’m fine," Shaw assures her, and- after a minute- Root releases Shaw’s hand.

"Work  _that_  bad?” She asks as they walk back to the store, the racks of clothing creating a labrynth around them.

"The manager is," Shaw responds, fingers trailing aimlessly down the lines of shirts and jackets. Root stops, taking a jacket from the wrack and holds in up to herself.

"Is that why you were hiding?"

"I wasn’t _hiding_ ,” Shaw spits. “I was protecting him from a broken nose- among  _other_  things.” Root sends a dazzling smile her way, and Shaw’s anger dissipates.

"How do you think this will look?" Root asks, putting the gray jacket beside a ruffly, white blouse.

"I think it’ll be fi-"

"Sameen Henson!  _There_  you are,” Sameen tenses, hearing Richard’s voice as he approaches. Root sends her a look that says ‘Henson.  _Really?_ ' Shaw gives a minute shrug in response, then looks back at Richard. “I just called my buddies at the Red Tail- you know, the night club?- and they told me that this good band is playing. I could  _really_ use a plusone.” Shaw grinds her teeth together, ready to strangle the man.  _No means no, Jacka-_

"What band?" Root asks, and Shaw shoots her a Hellish glare. Taken slightly aback, the manager replies,

"Uh, Set it Off."

” _Hmm,_ " Root replies, eyes inquisitive. "Never heard of them. Have you, Sweetie?" Root slips her hand into Shaw’s uninjured one. Shaw gives her a quick glance, but her face reveals nothing.

"Maybe one song." Shaw replies, not truly knowing how to roll with this one. Richard’s eyes bulge, and Root looks at him to respond.

"Maybe we can go another time? Tonight’s actually movie night- I already rented the DVD." Shaw tries to conceal a smug and somewhat proud smile, seeing Richard’s helplessly bewildered face.

"Oh, uh yeah. Any other time," he replies shakily, starting to back away. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it and hustles off.

Shaw watches him go; once out of sight, she shakes her hand free of Root’s.

"Thanks, I’ve been trying to shake him for two weeks now."

"Glad I could help," Root replies with a secretive smile as she walks away. Shaw follows, weaving in and out of clothes wracks until they find themselves at the cash register. Shaw pushes the double-swinging half door, and enters behind the ring-up counter.

"I’ll take all three," Root tells her, placing the jacket and blouse down on the table. Shaw eyes her suspiciously.

"Did you forget how to count?"

Root furrows her brow, then shakes her head. “No, why?”

"There are only two things here." Root gives her a quizzical glance, then puts up her pointer finger.

"One," she says, pointing to the shirt. "Two," as she points to the jacket. "And three." Her finger points straight forward, directing its line of fire at Sameen. Shaw rolls her eyes, then starts to scan the items.

"Sorry, Root," she says, bagging the clothing, "but I’m not for sale."

"I didn’t say  _buy_ ,” Root says, eyes intense and a smirk on her face. “I said  _take._ " Shaw feels a tingle down her spine, her nerves ignite, but she stays utterly unfazed on the outside.

"I don’t know if you’ve noticed," Shaw says hostilely, leaning towards Root from across the counter, "but I’m at  _work._ ”

” _Really?_  Because the schedule behind you says your shift was over ten minutes ago.” Confused, but with a glowering glare, Shaw turns to the whiteboard schedule on the back wall. She finds her name.

Sameen Henson: 10:30 a.m. - 7:00 p.m. Shaw checks her wrist watch. 7:10 p.m. Visibly bristling, Shaw grabs her jacket from underneath the counter and yanks it on. Flipping out the collar with an angry flare, she heads around the counter and towards the front door. With a satisfied smile, Root walks by her side.

Out to the cold, Shaw is instantly whipped by an icy wind that bites her nose. Pulling her shoulders up, she heads right, towards her apartment flat a few blocks away.

"Where are you going?" Root asks, jogging up to her, hands in her pockets.

"My apartment. Where else?" Root pulls out her hand and puts it on Shaw’s arm to stop her.

"Well, I thought we could go to my place?" She answers with a smile. "It’s still in the safe zone, so you’ll be oka-"

"Root." Shaw stops her, eyes serious. "I’m not going _anywhere_  with you.” She sees a small twinge of hurt in her eyes as the sun dips into the ground. “We have identities to uphold.”

"No one ever said we couldn’t  _develop_ them,” Root points out with a coy smirk. “Besides, She put me in this town for a reason. Told me what store to go in that day for a reason. And  _you’re_  it.” Shaw looks at her, finding it exceedingly difficult to keep a cold expression. Root holds up a set of car keys, dangling them before Shaw. In the small light surrounding them, Shaw identifies the emblem embedded on the keypad.  _Ferrari_. Root hits the unlock button, and the car two back from the way they came blinks its lights, revealing a sleek body and fiery red paint job. “458 Spider,” Root comments, seeing the spark of interest in Shaw’s eyes. “Hot off the press.” Shaw narrows her eyes, trying hard to hold her ground. “You can  _drive…_ " Root coos, jingling the keys right before Shaw.

Angrily, she snatches them from Root’s loose grasp, and heads towards the vehicle.

"You’re such a good girlfriend," Root remarks with a satisfactory sigh, pulling open the passenger door.

” _Don’t_  get ahead of yourself,” Shaw warns, glad the dark of night conceals the small smile on her face. “I’m only in it for the car.”


End file.
